Wildflowers in the Wind
by coolyourbutt
Summary: Germany has been feeling sick, and he's been having strange dreams hinting at a long forgotten past... Oneshot. GerIta.


**Wildflowers in the Wind**

**Quick Prefacey-type-Note – This is my first story! Yay! Hope you guys like it. And please don't get turned away from the ultra-melodramatic title to this story. I was in a **_**mood **_**when I came up with it. xD And of course, I don't own these lovely characters nor Hetalia.**

Germany hadn't been feeling himself lately. The last couple of weeks he'd been getting splitting headaches and an upset stomach on a daily basis, along with other assorted indications of illness. He thought he knew the cause, however, because the start of these symptoms just happened to coincide with the arrival of a certain guest at his house…

"Germany! Hey, Germany! It's so pretty out in the garden, why don't you come outside with me? Please, Germany!" Italy's voice drifted in through the open window into Germany's office.

"I can't, I'm working!" Germany called back. It was basically a lie, but his head was pounding and he needed some peace and quiet. He shut the window and sat back down at his desk with a sigh, rubbing his temples. _Why did I invite Italy to spend some time at my house? Didn't I know that man would only stress me out?_

The truth was, he'd felt obligated to invite his friend over because of the amount of time he'd spent at Italy's house the past couple years. He had simply been trying to return the favor, but was it really worth it if it made him violently ill? He was debating miserably with himself about whether or not he should ask Italy to go home early when the man in question burst into the room.

"Germany, how can you be working on such a nice day? Can't we play some football together?" he said with his usual enthusiasm and sunny smile.

When Italy had entered the office, Germany had sat up straighter and cleared his face of all signs of the pain that he was feeling. Now he shook his head, just managing to stop himself from wincing as the movement caused a fresh wave of sharp, stabbing pain behind his eyes. "I'm too busy. Please, go play somewhere else and let me work in peace."

Italy's face fell and his shoulders drooped. "Okay," he agreed quietly. As he slowly dragged his feet back the way he'd come, Germany felt a pang of guilt in his stomach for having caused that disappointment. Despite all the troubles the little guy usually brought with him, Germany had just begun to thoroughly enjoy his company over the last few weeks here in his homeland. The time they had spent together was something he'd started to look forward to, something he might even enjoy, if it wasn't for the constant headaches. But seeing his companion looking so hurt was far worse than any headache.

However, there were more important matters for him to deal with today and he really didn't want anyone, least of all Italy, around him at the moment. The head and stomach troubles he'd been having weren't the only things bothering him; he'd been having strange dreams and experiencing peculiar… _feelings_ that were unfamiliar and uncomfortable for him.

The dreams had been the most confusing part of this illness or whatever it was. They had all been about the same person, seen from his point of view. This person, who he didn't quite recognize, was a young, dark-haired girl. He remembered seeing her face in his dreams every night for the last couple of weeks, but couldn't recall seeing her ever before in his life. Beyond her face, though, everything else in the dreams was fuzzy by the time he woke up, and he never remembered anything more than random glimpses. The girl holding a paintbrush. The girl smiling at him. The girl's face incredibly close to his, and moving even closer.

It was like pieces of someone else's memories were being forced into his brain. So far they hadn't been holding well, but as of late he felt that they might have started to become clearer. He distinctly remembered her soft, sweet laugh, which he'd heard in a dream just last night.

Of course, these unusual dreams never just came by themselves, for there was the strange emotion he always felt upon waking up. It was a peaceful, calm, and relaxed feeling of happiness and tranquility that he had never felt before; not even when he was with Italy, his best friend. And he was very concerned about it. Now he was determined to find out who this mystery girl could be and what she had to do with him.

…

Hours later, after sifting through several centuries worth of journals and files, Germany still wasn't any closer to discovering the identity of the girl he kept seeing. There was nothing about her in anything that he'd looked at, which had extended from the modern era to some 300 years ago. But at least his head was feeling a lot better, probably because Italy had cooperated and stayed out of his way all day. So, despite his search ending in disappointment today, he was going to bed in high spirits.

He pulled back the covers of his bed and found, with little surprise, that Italy was already sleeping in it. He allowed himself a rare smile as he settled down next to him. Despite what he might say sometimes, he didn't really mind the little guy sleeping with him. When Italy wrapped his arms around him while they slept, as he sometimes did, it made him feel like he was needed and wanted by someone. It was a good feeling, and not one he often experienced. _And tonight_, he thought as he looked down at him somewhat affectionately, _he looks especially cute, with his hair tousled on one side and his mouth slightly open_…

With a jolt, Germany realized what he was thinking. Disturbed, he shook his head quickly to clear it of such thoughts. _I'm just tired,_ he rationalized as he pulled the covers up over himself and Italy, _I haven't been thinking clearly the last few days. _But he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over to Italy's side of the bed.

His heart beat unusually loudly in his ears as he looked the sleeping figure up and down. Suddenly, his mind was again gripped with thoughts that didn't seem entirely like his own. For the first time he noticed how beautiful Italy's nose, long eyelashes, and thin, bare shoulders were. _I want to kiss him,_ he realized with shock. Dull panic coursed slowly through his entire body accompanied by a tingling sensation in his hands, legs, and feet.

Face flushed, he just sat still, unsure what to do. A part of him, a powerful part, wanted badly to kiss Italy gently on the lips, but his brain just wouldn't let him. _What's wrong with me?_ he wondered desperately as his heart and his brain continued raging war inside him. _Why am I thinking these things all of a sudden! What do I do?_ He grabbed his head as out of nowhere it felt like a spike was being driven between his eyes and his body broke out in a cold sweat.

Eventually he couldn't stand the building pressure inside him anymore, so he compromised somewhat with himself. Blushing, he gently brushed the hair off of Italy's forehead with one shaking hand, and he placed a light kiss above his brow. As he did, both the passion and the pain that had filled him moments before lessened, which left him feeling rather empty and a little bit foolish. _What just happened? _he asked himself in the immediate aftermath of the sudden and disconcerting attack, even before he lifted his face away from Italy's.

"Ludwig…" Italy murmured in his sleep as Germany's lips left his forehead. Germany's already flushed face colored even more. He and Italy had never used their regular names with each other before. Not once. It had always seemed too intimate to him. Yet Italy was calling him this in his dreams? He was _in _those dreams? It was a little embarrassing.

_Look at what I just did to see embarrassing!_ he thought with sheer horror as the reality of it all hit him. Glad that no one had seen him and that Italy had been asleep, Germany buried his head under a pillow and tried to forget the whole thing. Though, just in case, he prayed to God to kill him during his sleep that night.

…

Despite Germany's best efforts to be smited by God as he slept, he woke up as usual the next morning. Except something was different. Unlike yesterday, and the morning before that, and countless mornings before that, Germany didn't have that unfamiliar pleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach; in fact, he didn't even recall having any dreams from last night about that girl. Today he was perfectly irritable! Downright disagreeable!

"What a relief!" he said aloud as he sat up. _Oops_. He glanced over at Italy, hoping he hadn't woken him. But no, Italy wasn't even in bed. "What time is it?" he muttered and looked at the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"Meno male, Germany, you're awake!" Italy suddenly shouted as he ran full speed towards the bed. He half tackled, half hugged Germany and began saying very quickly in that way of his, with lots of expression and hand waving, "I was worried when you didn't get up this morning, so I started shaking you but you still didn't wake up, and I thought you were dead or something! So I called Lovino to ask him what to do, but he just started laughing when he heard I thought you were dead! So then I didn't know who else to ask, and the next person I thought to call was Japan, but I freaked out and dialed the wrong number so the phone just beeped at me-"

"Italy."

"And then I thought maybe you were just sick, and remembered that Grandpa Rome always made me his special soup to make me feel better when I was little, so I went into the kitchen-"

"Italy!"

"Then those mean dogs of yours attacked me! So-"

"Italy, shut up you dummkopf!" Finally Italy stopped talking. By this time, Germany's head was pounding worse than it ever had. It hurt just to open his eyes with the sunlight in the room, not to mention his stomach felt sick. He lay back down in bed and pressed the cool side of his pillow against his aching eyes.

"Germany, are you really sick?" Italy asked. He was much quieter and gentler than he had been just a moment before.

"Ja, I think so."

"Then don't worry about a thing! You stay in bed and Italy will take care of you!" Germany risked cracking open one eye to see Italy's beaming smile. He seemed genuinely pleased to take care of him.

"Well, all right." Germany agreed quietly. "Could you please close the curtains, then?"

"Of course!" Italy rushed over to the windows and fumbled with the curtains for a few minutes before finally closing out the punishing sunlight. Germany eased his eyes open in the semi-darkness. "And now, I'll go make you some of Grandpa Rome's special Italian sausage soup for lunch!" Italy was saying as he picked his way back across the floor in the dark.

"Lunch? What time is it?" Germany asked. He glanced down at his bedside clock and saw that he'd slept until after 10:30. He'd never slept so late before in his life; maybe he really was sick.

Before he left the room, Italy paused for just a few seconds by Germany's bedside. He laid a soft hand on Germany's cold, clammy one and gave him a sweet smile. "Relax for a while, ok?" he said uncharacteristically gently, but with a clear note of happiness ringing in his voice.

Unsure of how to respond, Germany just nodded slightly. The smile and the touch, somehow, seemed to ease him, and his head felt much better than it had a moment ago. This was just like what happened last night; he'd felt better after kissing Italy. Were the two things connected?

Before Germany had a chance to think about it more, Italy bustled out of the room. Even from his bedroom, Germany could hear him in the kitchen, banging pots down and slamming the fridge door occasionally. Each time, Germany winced, from the slight jolt of pain the noise sent into his skull, but mostly from the mess he knew must be building up in his pristine kitchen.

While he was alone, Germany also got some time to think. Whatever it was he'd felt last night…Lust? Love? Well, whatever it was, it was gone now, and he still couldn't explain it. He had felt like an entirely different person when he'd looked at Italy…but at the same time, there'd been something familiar and natural about the situation. Whatever the case had been last night, though, today he felt the same way he always did with Italy, even when their hands had touched for a moment. Just a slight warm sensation in the pit of his stomach and an unusual, but not exactly unpleasant, ache in his chest. Side effects of friendship, he supposed, though he didn't have much experience to compare to. What if this _was_ love, or as close to it as he could achieve? He blushed at the mere thought. _That's impossible, I'm not in love. Besides, just thinking about this is making my head hurt again._ _I'll take his advice and rest for a bit._ He settled back in bed and before he knew it, he'd dozed off again.

_He was standing in a field of wildflowers. They swayed gently in a warm breeze, and the sun shone strongly on their yellow, white, and blue petals. He was happy. Just plain happy. He liked being where he was, and he especially liked being here with _her_…_

"_Holy Rome!" a voice called in the distance. "Holy Rome, look!" The adorable little girl in a green and white dress ran through the flowers towards him, making his heart beat faster in his chest. "I picked these for you," she said as she handed him a bouquet of wildflowers. "Do you like them?"_

"_I-Italy…" he stammered, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. Then, more firmly, he said, "Yes. Yes, they're very pretty. Thank you."_

"_I'm so happy!" She said, clapping her small hands together, tilting her head to one side, and giving him her warmest smile. "Let's put them in water back at the house!" She ran off in the direction of their distant home. He let her run ahead of him for a minute, savoring this perfect moment, before laughing and chasing after her…_

"Germany? Germany, are you ok?" Italy's face hovered over Germany's as he woke up. "Are you feeling bad? What's that weird look on your face, are you gonna throw up?"

Germany realized that he was smiling and quickly wiped it off his face. "No, I'm not going to throw up, you dummkopf," he teased gently in response to what he now realized was a joke from Italy. "I was just smiling."

"What were you so happy about?"

Germany frowned as he tried to remember. "I think it was the dream I just had." He didn't remember exactly what it was, but he was sure it had been pleasant. "Flowers…" he whispered to himself a few seconds later, too softly for Italy to hear. There'd definitely been something about flowers in his dream.

"Well that's good. You've been acting kinda weird lately, so I thought something might be wrong." Italy smiled and held out a steaming bowl of soup. "Are you ready for some soup?"

Had Italy noticed that there was something strange going on with him? Then again, it wasn't much of a surprise. He might seem like an idiot, and he might indeed be a bit of a coward, but Germany knew there was more going on behind that smiling face than Italy ever let on to anyone else. He accepted the bowl from Italy with a grunt of thanks and cautiously took a sip. He was pleasantly surprised with the simple but flavorful soup.

They had a nice meal together, and Germany's mood gradually improved with every spoonful. After lunch and the rejuvenating nap he'd had earlier, he felt well enough to get up during the afternoon and continue his search for the identity of that girl he kept seeing. Italy agreed to clean up the kitchen, because of course the mess he'd made had been horrendous.

"You know where the cleaning supplies are. I'll inspect your work in half an hour." Germany pointed at the door to the cleaning closet, just in case, and started to walk into his office but was stopped by Italy's voice.

"Germany, what is _this_?" He was holding a push broom; a very old push broom, by the looks of it. The wooden handle was dry, but cracking and splintering in places, and nearly half the bristles had fallen out. Italy was holding it gingerly, like it might fall apart at any second. "I never noticed it before. Why do you keep something so old?"

"I…well, it was a gift, so I just can't bring myself to throw it out," Germany muttered, a bit embarrassed.

"Who gave it to you?"

"It was…" Wait, who _had_ given that old broom to him? Someone from his distant past; that much he was certain of. He'd had it for as long as he could remember. "It was someone I cared about very much, so I keep it to remember them by." Even though he was blushing, his words were true. He knew that it had been someone very important to him, even if he wasn't sure exactly who.

"Oh, I see!" Italy put the broom away carefully in the back of the closet where he'd found it, then took a rag and went to clean up in the kitchen. Germany was thoughtful as he entered his office. Maybe he'd search his records for the person who gave him that old broom, while he was at it.

…

Italy smiled and hummed to himself as he worked steadily to clean up the mess he'd made in Germany's kitchen. It was the first real smile he'd worn in a while, and it felt good and natural, unlike the strained and false face he'd put on for the last few weeks. He doubted Germany had noticed, but he'd been distressed the whole time he'd been here. Germany had been acting funny and was clearly hurting, even though he was trying hard to hide it. As long as Germany wasn't happy, neither was Italy. But that was beginning to change, so Italy was also feeling good.

_Ludwig's starting to remember,_ he thought joyfully. _I'll wait for him, as long as it takes. _A few more years or decades meant nothing to Italy right now. He'd waited long enough for Germany to accept that part of himself which he'd tried so hard to forget. But for now Italy would be content with a kiss on the forehead when he was half asleep, and the knowledge that Germany _was_, slowly but surely, beginning to remember who he used to be. Who _they_ used to be.

**Author's Notes – So this was clearly my attempt at playing around with the idea that Germany is really Holy Rome (and if you hadn't gotten that by now, then obviously I did something wrong…) A couple notes:**

**Meno male! – Italian for, basically, 'Thank God!' (and if anyone actually speaks Italian and wishes to correct me on that, then feel free, haha.)**

**The push broom – YES, I'm AWARE that in the manga it was Chibitalia's underwear that he gave to Holy Rome as a parting gift. However, as amusing as I think it would be for Italy to find his own panties in Germany's house, it just didn't jive well with the story. So deal with it. : P**

**Hope you liked it! Feel free to review, things you liked, things to make better next time, whatever!**


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